


Moon Children

by phantomhivess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, harry potter fanfic, hermione granger x tom riddle, hermione x tom fanfic, tom riddle x hermione granger, tomione - Freeform, tomione fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomhivess/pseuds/phantomhivess
Summary: “We grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that, Tom.” Hermione whispered, brushing his onyx locks out of his face and pointing her wand at him.A pureblood family, Riddle, decides to take in a ten-year-old Hermione, since the muggle world has fallen. Tomione AU.





	1. Shattered Pieces

Hermione.

The name rolled off his tongue like a sweet poison. It reminded Tom of dark, cold days when he used to sit in his Victorian-style room that was at the end of the long hall in the Riddle manor. During those days, he would read books while he was cuddled up in his blanket that was the only source of warmth in the cold, which was threatening to engulf his whole being. The cold felt welcoming, but suffocating.

Hermione reminded him of the aroma of the black roses that were in his yard, which no one visited if there wasn’t a ball or an event being held. Nobody took care of the plants that were there, so ten-year-old Tom took it as his responsibility to keep the life flowing in the garden. It was his shelter when Merope and Thomas would start fighting and hexing each other. He couldn’t even utter the word “parents” since they were far from it. He knew that they didn’t love or care about him, they just tolerated him on some kind of level, because they had to uphold the reputation of a pureblood family. They created the image that everything was perfect, when in reality, it wasn’t.

Touching the muddy dust that coated the enormous window of his room, he leaned against it, as he waited for the arrival of his new step-sister. While going through Merope’s room when she was out, he found some interesting documents concerning adoption. He analyzed and studied each paper, making sure not to miss a detail.

Hermione Granger was a ten-year-old half-blood, who lived in the northern part of Britain. He slightly frowned and felt the pinch of hate because of the words “half-blood.” He wondered how his father, Thomas Senior, coped with that fact. While Thomas was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he still joined the Aurors to hunt the muggles in their world occasionally. The original Ministry was overthrown a few years ago, and tyranny was established. His father, along with a close family friend, Septimus Malfoy, agreed with the idea that the muggle world should have been destroyed a long time ago. The muggles ended up being enslaved and sold in the Black Market. Mostly, the magical children weren’t sold – they were just taken away, and placed in a witch’s or a wizard custody, just like Hermione.

His icy blue eyes scanned over the entrance of the manor, though no one had…visited them yet. Granger didn’t sound like a common pureblood family name. Hermione’s father had probably been a muggle, and her mother – a witch. Though it seemed weird to him – why didn’t she keep the surname of her mother, since it would provide a little bit of protection against the Aurors? Why did she choose the mudblood surname of her father? He would probably find answers, once that half-blood girl started living here. He honestly hoped it would be for a short period of time, and she would move out soon. He liked loneliness and the mysterious side of the manor while he explored the corridors quietly.

His train of thoughts was interrupted, as he felt the powerful magic surge through the manor, alerting him of the presence of his father. Without wasting another second, he took long strides through the halls and down the stairs to greet his new…resident. He didn’t really want to see her – he was just curious since he wanted answers to his questions.

When he arrived at the entrance of the manor, he saw that his mother was already there. Her lank and dull hair was pulled back in a perfect bun, and a sweet smile graced her heavy face. Though he knew that something vile and sinister was lurking behind that “smile.” Her bright red lipstick was slightly stained, alerting Tom of what she might have been doing the moment before. Thomas Senior stared at her with a hint of contempt, though it was covered up well by his monotonous mask. His pale skin glistened under the lamp, as he clutched a small girl’s arm roughly.

She had a small, elfish nose and bushy, untamed hair that reminded Tom of a wildcat. She was gazing imploringly at him since he seemed less vile than two of the wizards standing in the room. He noticed that her brown eyes were red and puffy as if she had been crying before. He took one step forward, leaning against the marble stairs unsympathetically and avoiding her gaze.

“Merope, show the girl to the guest bedroom, and I shall depart since I have matters to attend to.” Thomas’s gruff voice ordered the young witch, as he roughly pushed the petite girl forward.

Merope grinned knowingly, which later turned into an evil sneer, “I wouldn’t like to smell Cecilia’s perfume in my manor, honey.”

Thomas’s face contorted in rage, though before he could retort, Merope took the hand of the sobbing girl and led her down the corridor.

When he returned his sinister gaze on the steps of the stairs, where Tom had been standing, only to find that he had disappeared. His nostrils flared, and he lashed out at the nearby vase. The glass pieces pierced his hand, though he didn’t care at the moment. The blood dripped down his arm, and then on his Auror clothes. Without spending another second in the manor that he despised, he apparated away.

Tom stared at the broken vase emotionlessly.

* * *

Hermione felt a mix of emotions – she was bewildered, frightened and confused in this new world. About three days ago, she was laying in her bed, staring at the black sky while her mother coaxed her to sleep. Though when she woke up, everything in her house was destroyed and her parents were nowhere to be seen. The books that she had been reading the day before had been burned, the windows were shattered, and all of her furniture had been overthrown.

Her bed had been left intact, though, which left her wondering – what happened? The ceiling seemed to collapse as well, though it never touched her. She managed to crawl out of her bed and into the rubble of her house to escape the nightmare. Hermione remembered overhearing her parents one night, when they thought she was sleeping.

“They’re going to come for us too…” Her mother, who she had never seen crying, broke down right in front of her. Her father placed his arm around her waist soothingly, pulling her into a hug while she let out all of her emotions. Hermione was sitting on the stairs perplexed – who was going to come? What would happen? She finally found the key to her questions today. Before her school had closed down, she had listened to the conversations of her classmates, and the word “wizards” stood out the most. Apparently, they existed and were going to overrun and occupy their world. She had never believed it until today.

She kept calling out for her parents, though nobody answered her. Her voice became hoarse and croaked, as she was overcome by her tears. She didn’t know how much time she spent sitting there – maybe even hours, until a wizard by the surname of Nott found her. His hands that grazed her body were comforting, and he sat on her bed until she finally calmed down.

“My name’s Nott, and my family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And who are you, Darling?” He introduced himself in a calm tone and managed to soothe Hermione’s nerves a little.

“M-My name’s Hermione,” She stammered over her words, trying to pick the right words, “Where are my parents?”

He raised his thin eyebrow, as he pushed the girl’s bushy locks out of her face, “Are you a muggle-born, or a half-blood, my dear?”

Hermione contemplated his question and tried to search for the answer that would please him. When he mentioned the words “muggle-born”, his eyes seemed to darken and his voice became low. She could decipher hate behind his disguise, making her say loudly, “I-I’m a half-blood.”

Nott’s face softened again, as he caressed her shoulder, “Before I report your existence, I’m afraid you’ll have to prove to me that you are a half-blood by the use of your magic.”

And with that, Hermione won the approval of Nott by showing him simple tricks of wandless magic that she practiced over the years. Her parents never approved her of doing this, even forbidding her from doing it again. At first, she set a snake on her cousin on his ninth birthday once. When the relatives questioned what happened, she faked an innocent expression and shrugged her shoulders. The second time, she took care of her bullies. She pushed one of the girls, Myla, out of the swing by the push of her magic. Whenever Hermione used magic, her fingertips would start feeling different, as if something was going to come out of it. She wasn’t a freak, as many would label her, she had a special gift.

By the help of Nott, she got into the program for half-bloods, in which pureblood families would keep them for a while until they got sent off to one of the magical schools. As she learned throughout the weeks, being a half-blood was much better than being a muggle-born. She could never utter that she was a muggle, or else it would send her back to the Black Market. She heard it was a horrendous place.

Standing in front of her new room, which was decorated by Merope, brought back unfavorable memories. She was reminded of her own room, back in the northern part, which was laying in rubbles. Her favorite books, teddy bears, and notebooks were completely destroyed and covered by the dust and rocks. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself and pushing back her tears.

“Well, sweetie, do you like it?” Merope questioned, as she stroked her hair in a motherly manner.

Hermione plastered a fake smile on her face that could have seemed genuine, “Thank you, Mrs. Riddle. It is…accommodating.” The white walls were dull and worn out, though she never said anything. A king-sized bed, covered with red pillows and covers, stood in the middle. She also noticed that there were a lot of teddy bears and toys in her room.

“Please, do not address me as Riddle.” She spat out the words, as she tugged a little too harshly on Hermione’s hair, “I’m just Merope.”

She nodded quickly, as she tried to fight the tears that were threatening to break out. She didn’t want to be here – she wanted to be back in her house, where she was safe.

“I hope you like the Riddle Manor. If you need anything, you can ask my son, Tom. I’m pretty sure you guys will find something common since you are the same age.” Merope patted her on the head and left her alone in her room.

Her new room was built in the nineteenth century and looked over the backyard of the Manor. She stood in front of the huge windows, feeling empty and dazed.

She never noticed a pair of blue eyes following her every movement from the garden.

* * *

What do you think of this story? Should I continue it? Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Melancholy

Darkness surrounded Hermione completely, and her imagination was running wild, supplying the existence of imaginary beasts lurking throughout the room. Her breathing quickened up, as her mind was completely filled with nightmares and terror. She was constantly stuck on the same spiral staircase – it didn't matter whether she went up or down, she kept returning to the previous spot. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

_Mudblood._

_You're a mudblood._

A deep voice repeated the words like a chant, and Hermione was hit by sorrowful waves. The voice was constantly taunting her, his phrase echoing throughout the room, but never showing himself. All she could see was his shadow, which was getting closer and closer to her.

_Wake up._

She pleaded urgently, though her eyelids wouldn't flutter open. She had to use all of her willpower to escape the nightmare.

 _Wake up!  
_ Suddenly, she shot up from the bed, only to be met by unfamiliar blue eyes. All she could hear was her pulse throbbing in her ears. She wasn't in the nightmare anymore, so her ability to scream was back. She opened her mouth to shout at the stranger, to alert Thomas Senior or Merope that somebody was intruding their manor at this hour.

Before she could muster up the courage to do so, a hand clasped over her mouth, and the stranger shook his head slowly. He pointed his index finger on his reddish lips and made an "Shh" sound. When her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, she discerned her intruder – it was her step-brother, Tom.

She furrowed her eyebrows and clenched her teeth in order to stop herself from punching his smug, but serious face. It felt as if minutes passed, but he still wasn't removing his hand. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, waiting for her frightened expression. Hermione held his mischievous gaze and noticed that the right side of his thin lips tugged upwards.

He was smirking at her.

Smirking.

Hermione felt the rage boil up, and she bit down on his hand as harshly as she could. Earning a yelp from him, she managed to push him off her bed quickly. Tom didn't expect to be overpowered by a girl, and his smirk was wiped off his face fast. There was a momentary flare of anger, but he managed to cover it up with his monotonous mask the next second.

"What a surprise, brother. I didn't know you were so eager to spend time with me." Hermione lashed out, after a long pause of silence.

Tom faked a sincere expression, as a long, drawn-out sigh left his lips, "I apologize for scaring you, Hermione. I heard you scream, so I decided to check up on you."

She seemed taken back for a moment, and she started sluttering over her words, "U-Um, I'm sorry for pushing you, Tom." She felt like an awful person for assuming that he would attempt to do something to her. He was simply trying to be welcoming and caring to his new sister – after all, he decided to check up on her in the middle of the night to make sure that she was fine.

A small smile graced Tom's lips, "Since everything seems to be alright, I will retreat to my bedroom."

Hermione nodded while returning the grin. Her expression soon faltered, when she noticed that Tom was carrying her bag of belongings. Her eyes widened in realization – that was his true intention. He wanted to go through the notebooks and photos that she managed to save. It was possible that she didn't even scream while sleeping, but Tom made up an excuse to remain in her room. He thought she would be sleeping soundlessly, but he probably didn't expect that she was insomniac because of her nightmares.

"Hey, that's mine!" Hermione quickly shot up from her bed, and before Tom could leave the room, she grabbed onto her bag, "Give it back, Tom!"  
Without another word, Tom left the bag in her hands. He chuckled amusedly, and his dark eyes seemed to twinkle in the dark, "Reading about your muggle boyfriends was such a bore, I must say. Wasting your precious time on such…inferior minions, when you're a half-blood."

Hermione felt that her cheeks were beginning to burn up, and they were soon tinted red. She hoped that he wouldn't notice that she was embarrassed. She managed to retort quickly, "I never screamed, did I?"

"Why would I lie to my step-sister?" He uttered innocently while staring at her with wide eyes. She wanted to scoff but managed to refrain from doing so.

"Drop the act already, Riddle," sneered Hermione.

Malevolent, mocking blue eyes locked with hers, "Very well, Hermione." He made sure to pronounce each of the syllables of her name slowly, and he slowly backed away from her.  
"See you in the morning."

With that, Tom disappeared from her room, leaving her standing completely alone. She knew it wasn't the last time he would trespass. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, she gave up sleeping. She wished she had books right now, so she could keep her mind occupied – she didn't even want to play with the toys or teddies that were in her room.

* * *

The brilliant amber color filled her room quickly, as the sun rose to its zenith. Hermione pulled the covers over her, attempting to block the sunlight, but failing. She groaned and tried to go back to sleep, however, she was interrupted by a house elf appearing in the room.

"My lady, I am Silney, and mistress ordered me to assist you in the morning." The female elf squeaked, as she approached the bed, "I have already picked out gowns for you to wear."

Hermione shot up quickly, as she heard the word "gown." She fumbled over her words, and she started shaking her head frantically, "Silney, I cannot wear a gown. Is there anything else you can do?"

Silney sighed miserably, "Mistress will punish me if I don't follow her orders, my lady. Please wear the gown."

"I'll tell mistress that it wasn't your fault, and I decided to pick an outfit on my own." Hermione retorted as she slipped out of the bed slowly.

"My lady, I am afraid I cannot do that. Mistress will punish me." The house elf repeated as salty tears began dripping down from her eyes and her howls started worsening.

She felt a pang of remorse for these little beings. After a few minutes of debating, Hermione let out a defeated sigh, and she finally complied. She didn't want to see Silney suffering, because she decided not to wear Merope's gowns. The creature seemed so small and petite – it felt as if she touched Silney, she would break. Were all house elves treated in such brute manner like her? They were magical creatures too, and they were supposed to have rights just like wizards and witches did. They must not have to work in manors and be punished, just because of a minor mistake. But Hermione understood she couldn't change anything, even muggles were considered "inferior", just because they didn't have a magical core, and were placed on the same level as the house elves.

Hermione took hold of the maroon red gown and felt the silky texture of it. It seemed to slide through her fingertips smoothly, and she let out a contented sigh. Silney stopped crying as well, and she peeked out from her tiny hands, "Will lady Hermione wear the gown?"

She nodded defeatedly, "Yes, Hermione will wear the gown." Though she must admit, she really hated dresses.

* * *

Tom was waiting for Hermione impatiently at the end of the stairs while glancing around the hallway. She cleared her throat and glared at him, alerting him of her presence, "Good morning, Thomas.

He wanted to roll his eyes at such formality but decided to dismiss it. When she finally got down the stairs, he interlaced their arms forcefully and began leading her towards the dining room. Hermione wanted to tear her arm away from him, but his grip got stronger by each passing second.

"You're going to bruise me." She mumbled while giving him a sour look.

"Mother asked me to greet you and make you feel welcome, once you woke up." He retorted casually while correcting the strand of his hair that fell out.

She snorted in response, "Didn't know she also asked you to go through my belongings."

"And I'm sorry for that, my dear Hermione. My curiosity got better of me." Even though he was trying to hide it, she noticed that his mouth was twitching upwards.

Before they entered the dining room, Tom pulled her arm backward harshly, and she felt his breath on her ear, "And also, do not call me 'brother.' We're not family, half-blood."

Tom pushed the doors open and left a bewildered Hermione behind.

* * *

Surprisingly, the breakfast went quite well, since Thomas Senior wasn't present. When she asked about his whereabouts, Merope seemed to freeze in her chair and her joyful expression faltered. Tom simply glared at her, and kicked her leg under the table, while quickly explaining that his father was working in Ministry at this time. Everything seemed to go back to normal after a few minutes of silence until Merope decided to start a conversation again.  
"You look splendid in that gown, Hermione." She started, only to be interrupted by her son in the midway, "I do agree with mother. You look better." Tom finally stated, and he leaned back against his chair.

Hermione floundered, not knowing quite what to say, "U-Um, thank you." She smiled genuinely in an embarrassed manner, however, her glowing expression soon disappeared, when Tom finished his sentence.

"You look like less of a scarecrow." Tom's face broadened, the thin edge of a grin playing about his lips.

He saw the shock register on her face before she could hide it. A full grin broke out on his lips and he slightly covered his mouth with his hand, while matching her angry stare.

Merope chose to disregard their small conversation, and she continued speaking in her commanding tone, "Hermione, I asked Silney to throw away your…muggle garments, since you won't be needing them anymore."

Before Hermione could think through her sentence, she sprang up from her chair, pushing it slightly back, "Merope, those were the only remainders of the place I used to call home. I-I can't wear dresses, I prefer trousers and shirts over this type of outfit."

Merope threw her head back, her laughter echoing throughout the room. Hermione froze in her steps, as she listened to her cackle. Compared to her mother's laughter, which was soft and heart-warming, Merope sounded unladylike and menacing.

"Honey, while you're living here, you have to follow the rules. We're a pureblood family, and wearing such muggle clothing will bring disgrace to our name." She stated quietly and continued, "Since you're a half-blood, you need to think about taking after the magical side of the family, not the latter."

Hermione wanted to argue with her – she wanted to say that it didn't matter what type of clothes you wore or found to be fashionable, that muggles and witches were alike – but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. If she spoke favorably of muggles, she would soon become unwelcome in this house, and probably be sent back to Nott to help her find a new family or be dispatched in Black Market. Nobody would go through such trouble of transferring from one family to another for a half-blood, after all, they were half wizard. She could hardly contain her anguish and hopelessness and her expression began to falter. Though she managed to push the tears back and chose not to partake in the conversation anymore. If she spoke up, she was sure her voice would break.

"Tom, would you be kind enough to have Hermione in your care today?" Merope said as she picked at her newly polished nails, "I have some matters to attend to this afternoon."

Tom's fists visibly clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth was set into a thin line. Hermione recognized his anger and she could see many emotions swirling in his eyes. While his face was always calm and collected, his eyes gave him away. She had so many questions at the moment – did Tom get mad, just because he didn't want to spend time with her, or was there a different reason? Though no answer she came up with seemed to make sense to her.

His short answer surprised her greatly, "Of course, mother." He stared at her from the corner of his eye.

Hermione wanted to refuse and say that she preferred to remain in her room today. She didn't want to spend more time than necessary with this vile child, who always looked at her mischievously. Even though she didn't have many friends back home, maybe just one or two, she remembered that they never acted as weird as Tom.

"Alright, Tommy. Thank you." With that, Merope hurriedly left the dining room, while correcting her hair and smoothing her outfit.

After Tom controlled his expression and he calmed down, he slowly turned towards Hermione, "Seems like we're going to spend the day, Granger."

She never wanted to run away so much.

* * *

_What do you think of the new chapter? What are your suggestions? Reviews are appreciated._


	3. Library

Hermione remembered the words from her favorite book – wolves were opportunists. They test their prey, trying to sense any weakness and vulnerability before attacking them. The prey can never outrun the hunter, as it will always be under the wolf’s watchful eyes. Their yellow eyes can light up the whole atmosphere, making a person forget their surroundings for a while. All they can see is fire dancing in their eyes, willing to burn the prey. Run. The prey’s instincts would soon take over, but it would be too late. She would already be caught in a trap.

The yellow eyes soon turned to blue, and she found herself staring at Tom Marvolo Riddle. She let out a small squeak, covering her mouth quickly.

“Is everything alright, Hermione?” Tom glanced over his shoulder, as he continued walking down the hallway to continue exploring.

“Y-Yes, certainly. I was just thinking.” She could barely think of an excuse, as she stammered over her words.

“About what?” She was sure he would continue questioning her until he managed to get a satisfactory answer from her.

Hermione came to an abrupt stop, as she stared up at the portraits adorning the walls of the long corridor. There were about ten of them, and they seemed to be placed according to the chronological order. Tom Riddle Senior’s portrait was at the end of the line, as he was the latest descendant of the family. But she kept wondering, shouldn’t there be Tom Junior’s picture at the end, since he was the heir of the Riddle family? She was sure he would follow his father’s footsteps and earn his place at the Ministry, once he was eighteen. She spent about three days here, though she knew for sure that she has already seen the dark aspects of Tom’s personality. Even though she was young, she understood that he was different from other children. Looking up at the portraits once again, she could feel the power radiating off them. It was as if all of the ancestors were waiting for her to acknowledge their rank and standing in the Magical community. It felt like they wanted to instill fear in every one of them – it was the same mask that Tom tried to use.

“Don’t stare at them too long,” Tom mumbled, tugging Hermione’s arm harshly, and attempting to drag her away. Though she managed to shake off his hand quickly, “Tom, shouldn’t your portrait be up there?”

“It’s better if it’s not.”

That’s the only answer Hermione could get from him, as on the rest of the tour, he was quiet.

* * *

Tom pushed the heavy red door open and Hermione was met by a magnificent, Victorian library that was located on the third floor of the manor. She could see dust collecting everywhere in the room, which probably meant that nobody visited this place. She barely contained her happiness, as she darted towards the shelves, coated with spider webs. Even though she was scared of spiders, she loved books more. She began reading out the titles and the authors loudly, while Tom trailed behind her quietly.

He plopped down on the armchair finally, blowing a strand of his hair out of his face.

“I guess that you love reading.” He said it as a statement, his eyes watching her every move. He could hardly believe it – how could a girl be so energetic? She covered every corner of the room, making sure to see each book. Though the library would still remain a mystery for her – he would never tell her where the important magical books were located. They were in the restricted section, which was behind the door that wasn’t visible to the naked eye. It was only exclusive to the Riddles, including himself. He made sure to leave that part out from their “tour”, along with many other secret places in the house.

“Of course! I never had such a huge library in my house!” Hermione saw that many shelves were stacked on top of each other, and continued upwards until it reached the ceiling, “Do you have Jane Austen, by any chance?”

Tom’s eyes widened slightly, but he managed to cover up his shocked expression quickly, “On your left, fifth shelf.”

She nodded, as she stood on her tip toes to reach the purple book, “Do you like reading literature, Tom?”

“I wouldn’t waste my time on muggle literature like you do, though.” He finally retorted, leaning against his armchair, “Have you ever read something about magic?”

Hermione finally realized her mistake, and she mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. Of course, witches wouldn’t touch muggle literature during such dark times, when they were shunning muggles. But she knew it was too late to think of a lie; she was never good at it, anyway.

“If you don’t waste your time on it, why do you keep it then?”

“Because, Hermione, it provides insight into Muggles’ lifestyle and their ideology. They’re also a part of their history, which could tell us about how they evolved throughout the centuries. Also, the writing style is quite elegant, even for those non-magical people. I don’t see why we shouldn’t keep it.” He replied casually, and he quickly strode over to Hermione, towering over her and taking Jane Austen’s book out from the shelf.

“But you know where it is located precisely, so does that mean you read books about romance in your free time?” Hermione’s giggles echoed throughout the room, as she tried to contain it. She could sense a murderous aura in the room, but she found Tom reading romance while trying to seem scary, too funny.

He thrust the book towards her arms, as he let out an angry puff. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to seem menacing, which quieted her giggles.

“And you wear muggle clothes, read muggle books about cheesy romance, have no manners, no information about magic and your ancestors – are you sure you’re not a mudblood, dear?”

Hermione could feel fear creeping up her body slowly. Her hands started trembling at her sides, and her legs were frozen into the place, “I-I’m a half-blood, Tom. Mr. Nott already proved it and took me into the program.” She was sure if she continued talking, her voice would break soon.

Tom’s eyes scanned over her face, trying to uncover whether she was lying or not. When he finally seemed content, he stepped back slightly, letting her pass.

Clutching the book tightly, Hermione ran out of the library and down the corridor to the safety of her room, where she knew that Tom wouldn’t follow.

* * *

Thank you guys for so much feedback! This chapter is a little short since I didn't have much time to write.

What do you guys think of the new chapter? What are your suggestions?


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